


Enfolded In His Wings

by taichara



Category: Gundam 00, Gundam 00 & Anno Domini Gundam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:49:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: The "lord" watches over his own, even if they don't know it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt:_ "mirror, mirror"

It was all he could do, to keep up the soft murmur -- the mimicking rhythm of blood as it flowed in the veins, a subliminal purr of reassurance -- that filled the cockpit with a nearly unnoticeable thrum while Allelujah buried his face in his hands and tears flowed freely.

It really was all that he could do.

His Meister tore himself up inside, and there was nothing else that he could do about it but fill the air with with the ghost of machine crooning and hope it would be enough. 

Enough for Allelujah to pull himself together and dismount before one of the crew came to winkle him out of his protective cocoon of metal and silence; enough to beg an accident, a glitch, an overclocking of some subsystem and not his own pushing against the control goad that bound him.

Enough to let his Meister pull himself together, and keep his Meister under control.

He knew very well that he flew with two, after all. Even without the echo of quantum waves through his core, it was obvious; they talked to each other, argued with each other, traded places -- willing or unwilling -- and neither knew that they had an audience.

Or at least, if they did, they never breathed a whisper of suspicion. Not a whisper, not a word, for all that Allelujah spoke to him, directly to him. And for that he was grateful.

So, he did what he could. 

Kept them alive. 

Flew for them. 

Killed for them.

And thrummed wordless songs meant to soothe pain, to bring calm.

It seemed to work, and for that he was also grateful.

Even now Allelujah's ragged breaths were easing, the horrible sounds of his anguish tapering off. But they were alone together in the docking bay for much too long now, and someone -- Christina, he thought -- had opened the inner lock and was coming arrow-straight towards his inert frame.

Ptolemaios would want answers, after their capture.

It had been so close. So very close. He fancied he could still sense the heat of the cutters against his plates.

A comm-line crackled; are you alright, Allelujah? He lowered the intensity of his croon, slowly, slowly, as much to clear the line of interference as to hide his presence. You see, Veda, no directives have been broken here ...

With shaking hands, Allelujah released the cockpit hatch and clambered from his seat to follow Christina to the living decks of the ship. He watched them go, murmur trailing off as the door slid closed and the haros began to close in with their maintenance machines.

Time to rest. Time to dream, and hope there was another way, another life.

His Meister was not the only one who wished to be more than a killing thing.

Until that wish could be reality, Kyrios would do what he could.


End file.
